


A Helping Hand

by meghansolo17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drarry, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meghansolo17/pseuds/meghansolo17
Summary: What happens after the war when Draco Malfoy helps Harry Potter to take down Lord Voldemort? And what happens when Malfoy returns for his eighth year after disappearing?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 22





	1. Prologue

“Honestly Harry,” Hermione said brushing crumbs from the front of his robes. “You seem to have forgotten how to take care of yourself entirely.”

“Have not,” Harry said wriggling out of Hermione’s reach. “Just been to busy to notice.”

“Give the man a break ‘Mione,” Ron said around the toast he was inhaling. “He has enough on his plate already. Speaking of plate, are you going to eat that last piece of bacon?”

Harry mindlessly grabbed the plate near him and passed it to his best friend. “Here.”

“Thanks mate,” Ron said happily and took the plate from Harry. “What are you even working on? It’s only the second day of classes, even I’m not behind yet.”

“Paperwork from the trials,” Harry crossed out the name of a dead Death Eater. “I knew that taking an internship and going back to school was a bad idea. I should have just spent the summer at the Auror office and then took a break.”

“I don’t know why you came back anyway,” Ron grabbed a paper off the pile that was by Harry’s arm. “You have a killer job at the Ministry already. And I am sure that you could get any job you wanted, everyone pretty much owes you for the rest of your life.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint your mother,” Harry looked up at his best friend and then turned to look at Hermione who was next to him. “Or your girlfriend.”

“I don’t think that you would have disappointed me Harry,” Hermione smiled at him. “But I agree with you about Molly. Even though I knew I wanted to finish out my NEWT’s the sheer force of Molly Weasley was another factor that was pushing me to come back.”

“What are you all talking about? She’s my mother!”

“Yes, but we overheard the talk that she gave you over the summer before we went to Diagon Alley. Let me tell you mate it scared the shit out of me. I was sure that she was going to give me the same speech,” Harry shook his head. He had defeated Lord Voldemort the most dangerous wizard who ever lived, but he was terrified of what Mrs. Weasley would think of him if he didn’t go back and finish school.

“I’m just upset that they my bed to some Franky-First Year,” Ron said. “A giant magical castle and there is no way to add another room to Gryffindor Tower? And now we are all being shoehorned into a remolded wing of the seventh floor.”

“Not all of us,” Hermione countered, “just the Eighth Years.”

“Is that what they are calling us? Eighth Years? Does it even count as an eighth year if the three of us didn’t even show up for the seventh year?” Ron asked.

“I think it just had to do with the fact that we were supposed to finish last year,” Hermione explained. “So, an eighth year had to be added for us.”

Ron continued to spot questions. “What about everyone else? Are they going to have to have an Eighth Year or are they all going to repeat the same year because of last year and the war? Is an eighth year going to continue until the current First Years graduate? And will they graduate with the year ahead of them because they will be the last group of Eighth Years?”

“Um.” Harry looked up from his work again to see Hermione looking across the table just staring at Ron, who had a smug look on his face. “Those are excellent questions Ron,” Hermione was able to get out after a few seconds had passed.

“Maybe you should talk to McGonagall about it,” Harry offered to ease some of the weird tention that was settling over the breakfast table.

“Good idea Harry,” Hermione nodded.

Ron continued to have the smug look on his face for the remainder of breakfast. Harry turned back to his work.

Harry Potter did not work for the Ministry of Magic. He worked for an Auror, who just so happened to work for the Ministry. Harry new that he would never be able to work directly for them anyway, not after the way that they treated him and Dumbledore after Voldemorts return. Or after how they carried on about him for the entire month of May after the Battle Of Hogwarts.

No, Harry did not work for the Ministry. He worked for Artemus Featherstone, the Auror who was in the lead of gathering up the last of the Death Eaters, and taking care of those who had been misplaced during the war.

The problem that Harry had, was now that he was back in school he could no longer go out and help Featherstone find the people that the was looking for. Featherstone just sent Harry all the paperwork that needed to be looked over and sighed. Which Harry had done anyway when he was in the office. But along with all his school work and the growing pressure of the NEWT exams at the end of the year, things were really starting to pile up. He had already had to drop Quidditch, even though that had only because he had wanted to avoid talking to Ginny.

Due to his uncontrollable workload, Harry and Ginny both agreed that they would be taking some time away from one another. Also to see if that they had only gotten together due to the fact that it was wartime and Harry might possibly die.

The real question that Harry had was now that he was alive, and likely to stay alive for a very long time, did he even like Ginny and were they even a real couple.

“Featherstone still sending you work then I see,” Ron said slumping down on the couch next to him.

“Yeah, just set him back the work from this morning. And not a minute later there was another owl flying in,” Harry sighed and threw hs quill onto the stack of parchment.

“Do you reckon that the couches here are less comfortable than the ones back in the old common room?” Ron asked as he tried to fluff up one of the pillows.

The Eighth Year common room was a weird mixture of furniture that the Headmistress seemed to have picked from random places around the castle. Nothing seemed to match, not any of the chairs around the tables. Not even the footrests matched the sofa. Even in their rooms nothing matched.

Instead of separate rooms for the houses, the boys were all put into one wing, and the girls in another. The bedspreads were all the same color, and Harry swore that they were the same color as the ones in the Hospital Wing, only unused. Due to the fact that so few people from their year came back to finish it did make since.

It was just hard to give up House pride that they had all had since they were eleven.

“These must be from the teachers room or something,” Harry replied. “There is no way that they came from a common room. They are terrible to relax in.”

“Things not fitting the same as they did in the tower princess?” A voice sneered from behind the couch the two boys were sitting at.

Harry didn’t have to turn around to know that Pansy Parkinson was behind them. For whatever reason she had comeback to finish her schooling. And due to the fact that Malfoy wasn’t here to counteract her, she seemed to be even more unbearable than ever.

“Just ignore her,” Ron whispered to Harry, “even though she probably finds everything comfortable with that arse on her.” Ron said the last bit just loud enough for Parkinson to hear.

“What did you just say about my are Weasel?” Parkinson screeched.

Both boys on the couch turned around to face her. “You know what Harry?” Ron said cheerily.

“What is it Ron?” Harry said equally as cheery back.

“It just doesn’t have the same effect anymore,” Ron smirked. “We killed Voldemort. I was almost killed by his crazy snake. And I killed a piece of his soul, not to mention we all camped in the wood for months. So, you and your little gang of arseholes do scare us anymore.”

Parkinson began to stutter something and then turned an alarming shade of purple and stomped into the girls dormitories.

“Very well said Ron,” Harry laughed.

“Thank you, thank you,” Ron stood up and began to bow as if there was a crowd in the common room.

“What did I miss?” Hermione asked as she climbed through the door. She stopped when she saw Ron bowing. “Seriously what did I miss?”

“Ron just took down Parkinson, it was wicked!” Harry said excitedly.

“Oh Ron,” Hermione sighed. “Why on earth would you do that? Don’t you know how hard of a time she is having?”

“Hard of a time she’s having?” Ron asked incredulously. “What about me? She was being her normal horrible self. She should be taken down. Half of her friends are in Azkaban anyway, so now she is being even more horrible.”

Hermione gave Ron a look. “Honestly,” she shook her head, curls flying around.

“What?” Ron sat back down next to Harry. Hermione sat on the chair across form them.

“Half of her friends are in Azkaban!” Hermione said, like it was obvious. “Also some of them are dead, and some are still missing. And not because they were Death Eaters,” she pointed a finger at them, “or that they were bad people. It is because their parents were, some former Slytherins are missing because their parents hid them away during the war. Or that they were killed by Death Eaters because their parents defied Voldemort.”

Both Harry and Ron sat there stunned listening to what Hermione was saying.

Hermione looked at them, she then turned to Harry, which scared him. “Really Harry, what do you think all this is?” She gestured to the papers. “Haven’t you noticed that you have gotten most of the Death Eaters now? Why do you think that Featherstone keeps sending larger and larger stacks?”

“I figured there was just more work,” Harry shrugged. “Just because it was mixing in with my homework.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at that. She reached over and grabbed pieces of parchment off the top off the pile. “Theo Nott, age seventeen, last seen before the Battle of Hogwarts. Gemma Flint, age twelve, last seen December 1997 when leaving for Christmas break. Draco Malfoy, age eighteen, last seen at the defeat of Voldemort. Marcus King, age fourteen, last seen March 1997 leaving fo Easter break. It goes on and on Harry, they are all missing kids. Do you even read the papers?”

Harry felt his face flame up, “Only the bits that I need to sign. Or that Featherstone points me too.” This earned another eyeball form Hermione.

“Hold on,” Ron said holding out his hand for the papers. Hermione handed them to him. he shuffled through to the one that he was looking for. “Malfoy, you mentioned Malfoy.”

“I thought that he was sent to Azkaban?” Hermione questioned. She got up to squeeze in-between the two boys.

“That was his father,” Harry said, he reached over and grabbed the sheet out of Ron’s hand. “The last time I remember seeing him was…”

“When he helped you kill Voldemort,” Ron said quietly.

The three of them were quiet. There was one one else in the common room to disturb them. “I thought he went to Azkaban, that’s why he wasn’t here. I cant imagine him not willing not coming back to finish up,” Hermione said breaking the silence.

“Me too,” Harry admitted. Those first few weeks after the end of the war, all the trials, and hunting down Death Eaters. He had sworn that he had seen Malfoy there. Somewhere.

“So where is he then?” Ron asked.

“Clearly no one knows,” Harry said shaking the parchment. “I’m going to mark this one and send it back to Featherstone. Malfoy is a Death Eater after all.”

“But he also helped to kill Voldemort,” Hermione said softly.

Harry looked at the paper in his hand. “What do we do about him then?”


	2. Chapter One

“Honestly Harry,” Hermione said brushing crumbs from the front of his robes. “You seem to have forgotten how to take care of yourself entirely.”  
“Have not,” Harry said wriggling out of Hermione’s reach. “Just been to busy to notice.”  
“Give the man a break ‘Mione,” Ron said around the toast he was inhaling. “He has enough on his plate already. Speaking of plate, are you going to eat that last piece of bacon?”  
Harry mindlessly grabbed the plate near him and passed it to his best friend. “Here.”  
“Thanks mate,” Ron said happily and took the plate from Harry. “What are you even working on? It’s only the second day of classes, even I’m not behind yet.”  
“Paperwork from the trials,” Harry crossed out the name of a dead Death Eater. “I knew that taking an internship and going back to school was a bad idea. I should have just spent the summer at the Auror office and then took a break.”  
“I don’t know why you came back anyway,” Ron grabbed a paper off the pile that was by Harry’s arm. “You have a killer job at the Ministry already. And I am sure that you could get any job you wanted, everyone pretty much owes you for the rest of your life.”  
“I didn’t want to disappoint your mother,” Harry looked up at his best friend and then turned to look at Hermione who was next to him. “Or your girlfriend.”  
“I don’t think that you would have disappointed me Harry,” Hermione smiled at him. “But I agree with you about Molly. Even though I knew I wanted to finish out my NEWT’s the sheer force of Molly Weasley was another factor that was pushing me to come back.”  
“What are you all talking about? She’s my mother!”  
“Yes, but we overheard the talk that she gave you over the summer before we went to Diagon Alley. Let me tell you mate it scared the shit out of me. I was sure that she was going to give me the same speech,” Harry shook his head. He had defeated Lord Voldemort the most dangerous wizard who ever lived, but he was terrified of what Mrs. Weasley would think of him if he didn’t go back and finish school.  
“I’m just upset that they my bed to some Franky-First Year,” Ron said. “A giant magical castle and there is no way to add another room to Gryffindor Tower? And now we are all being shoehorned into a remolded wing of the seventh floor.”  
“Not all of us,” Hermione countered, “just the Eighth Years.”  
“Is that what they are calling us? Eighth Years? Does it even count as an eighth year if the three of us didn’t even show up for the seventh year?” Ron asked.   
“I think it just had to do with the fact that we were supposed to finish last year,” Hermione explained. “So, an eighth year had to be added for us.”  
Ron continued to spot questions. “What about everyone else? Are they going to have to have an Eighth Year or are they all going to repeat the same year because of last year and the war? Is an eighth year going to continue until the current First Years graduate? And will they graduate with the year ahead of them because they will be the last group of Eighth Years?”  
“Um.” Harry looked up from his work again to see Hermione looking across the table just staring at Ron, who had a smug look on his face. “Those are excellent questions Ron,” Hermione was able to get out after a few seconds had passed.  
“Maybe you should talk to McGonagall about it,” Harry offered to ease some of the weird tention that was settling over the breakfast table.   
“Good idea Harry,” Hermione nodded.   
Ron continued to have the smug look on his face for the remainder of breakfast. And Harry got back to his work.


	3. Chapter Two

“Mr. Potter, what brings you into my office?” Artemus Featherstone asked as Harry pushed the door open. “I did not expect to see you so soon into the term.”

“Just dropping off the papers you sent yesterday,” Harry said pulling out the stack of parchment out of his bag.

“You do know that you can just send it with an owl, you don’t have to come all the way to the Ministry everyday to deliver it,” Featherstone motioned to put the papers on his desk. “It is nice that you are here though. How are classes going?”

“Good enough,” Harry shrugged as he put the stack on the desk. “Stressful enough.”

“Do you want to take a break from the work? I’m sure that a lot of paper work atop of all your NEWT levels must be a lot,” Featherstone offered as he pulled the stack towards him. “I really don’t think that Professor want to get so me random Auror work for your assignment. Nor do I want to get your Transfiguration homework.”

“It’s not a problem sir. I dealt with far more than just extra work on top of homework,” Harry shrugged.

He saw as Featherstones eyes flicker up to the scar on his forehead. “Right, well, I won’t send you back to the castle with anymore work. I’ll send it to you Monday, take the weekend off. Go to Hogsmeade, spend time with your friends. Take some time to enjoy your last year at school. Then you can get to work.”

“Sure, thank you sir,” Harry nodded and turned to leave the office.

“Mr. Potter,” Featherstone said.

“Yes sir.”

“Good luck on your NEWT’s.”

“Thank you sir,” Harry said and turned to leave the office. He stood outside the office door and pulled a single piece of parchment out of his bag.

There was a single line underlined.

_Draco Malfoy, age eighteen, last seen at the defeat of Voldemort._

When Harry got back to Eighth Year dorms he went straight over to the trunk at the foot of his bed. He dropped his bag next to himself as he opened the trunk. He felt around to the bottom, when there, he felt it. With a quick glance over his shoulder Harry made sure that no one else was in the dorm. He pulled the wand out from the trunk.

It was the wand that had been used to destroy Voldemort.

Draco Malfoy’s wand.

After he had fixed his own wand with the Elder Wand he no longer had any use for it. And seeing how he had never seen Malfoy since then there was never a time to give it back. The only time this summer that he had seen a Malfoy was during the trials. Which he knew that there was no way an intern for one of the most influential Auror’s could go up to the wife of a Death Eater and hand her a wand.

So he had put it in his trunk. Expecting that Malfoy would come back to school, or that there was someone who he could give the wand back to. The only problem was almost no Slytherins had come back to finish up. They were either dead or in Azkaban.

He had seen Malfoy at the end of the battle, when he had helped. The trials were all a blur to him. Mostly everything since the end of the war was a blur.

“Harry?”

Harry stuffed the wand back into the trunk and slammed it shut. He turned around to see Neville standing in the doorway. “Hello, Neville,” he said, hoping that he didn’t look to guilty for something.

“Back from work already? Ron said that you would be there until dinner at least.”

“No, just had to drop off paperwork,” Harry stood up and kicked his bag under his bed. “Featherstone gave me the weekend off.”

“That’s good. You coming down to dinner then?” Neville asked.

“Yeah, I’ll meet you all down there.”

“Okay,” Neville nodded, gave Harry one last look and turned out of the dorms.

Harry figured that he should at least try to find Malfoy, if only just to return his wand. Not because he wanted to turn him over to the Aurors and send him to Azkaban. The halls of Hogwarts seemed empty without someone always antagonizing him. And now that he didn’t have Voldemort to worry about, it felt weird not to have anyone to be angry at or to figure out of someone was plotting something.

“So, how was it?” Ron asked as Harry finally made his way down to dinner.

“Not bad. He gave me a break and told me that he is going to lighten the load a bit until I graduate,” Harry shrugged and began to fill his plate.

“That’s good then. Right?” Ron asked, his mouth of course filled with food.

“I guess,” Harry shrugged again.

“So you didn’t ask him then,” Hermione stated. “About helping to find the missing kids.”

Harry shook his head. Hermione had apparently gotten it into her head that now that the war was over and they did not have to worry about fighting Voldemort at the end of the year, that it would be a good idea if they, mainly Harry, helped to find the missing children. She thought that it was wrong that the Ministry had spent all its time looking for the Death Eaters and not the children that they had left behind.

“Good,” Ron muttered. “I really don’t need another mission now. Maybe not ever again.”

“I feel like we have a responsibility to these kids,” Hermione said. “We are the reason that they are missing and all.”

Both boys stopped eating and stared at Hermione. “And how do you reckon that?” Ron asked.

“The war,” she said matter of factly. “We spent all this time looking for those who actively went against the Ministry and followed Voldemort. Not once have I heard a mention of helping to find the children that went missing. I’m sure that that one paper you had Harry wasn’t the only one. I bet there are hundreds of kids that are missing or displaced because of what their parents did.”

“And that is our problem how?” Ron asked. He was going in for another helping.

“Well,” she stressed. “I figured that Harry would want to help because the same thing happened to him. Yes, is parents were in the Order. But they were still killed during the last Wizarding War and left Harry alone. What’s to say that there aren’t kids like Harry out there right now who’s parents were killed or imprisoned?”

When she put it like that Harry couldn’t believe that he hadn’t seen it that way himself. Actually he could, but still. “Alright,” he nodded. “When I go in next week to drop off the papers to Featherstone I will bring it up with him. Even if the Auror’s can’t do anything about it, I’m sure that there is another department that can.”


End file.
